


Remember?

by merakiopia



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen, Memories, Recovery, sorry for doing this to you
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-01
Updated: 2018-07-01
Packaged: 2019-05-31 18:09:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15125051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/merakiopia/pseuds/merakiopia
Summary: It takes some time to heal, especially when the ghosts of the past dance at the edge of your vision. George Weasley knows this best of all.





	Remember?

After a while, the memories begin to lose their sharp tang of bitterness. He isn't sure when, or how, but he suspects it's sometime after Fred's funeral as he watched his ashes fly off the cliff and into the ocean below. 

He'd stood there for a few seconds, watching the waves pound against the sandstone cliffs, the sea foam cresting as the sea roared in defiance. The small earthenware urn was clutched in his hand as he froze, uncertain as what to do. 

Ginny stood a few paces behind him. The war seems to have leeched her of colour, so that her hair was no longer a fiery red, her skin paper-white. The defiance in her eyes had faded too, been replaced by something more mellow.

She'd grown, George realised with a pang. She'd grown up over the past few months when he'd been drowning in his own grief. She'd looked up at him, her eyes red-rimmed and filled with sadness. But as she nodded at him, he could almost see the pieces of her mending, knitting together.

Then, he simply let go.

The urn flew open before it hit the rocks, ashes being swept away by the fierce wind. They watched them fly away into the sunrise. It was then that he knew - the scars would never disappear. But maybe, over time, they'd fade. 

-

Months passed before he was able to step foot in his shop again, the sunlight falling through the windows as he strides through the shop, dust swirling in eddies around his feet. He breathes it in, cherishes it as he runs hands over cherry wood shelves, as he laughs as he looks at the tricks that line the walls.

It was almost instinctive when he looked back to check on his brother, to share a grin and make a comment about how old everything looked. He even opens his mouth, ready to throw a quick quip over his shoulder.

But when he turns around, there's nothing there but silence.

He cries, sitting in the middle of the store, tears running down his cheeks. In that moment, it feels as if his heart has fallen apart again, and a sour taste pervades his mouth as he furiously tries to stifle his sobs. 

The door jingles merrily as a sudden gust of wind pushes it open, and he hears a whisper of laughter brush past his ear. He jolts upright, his eyes alight for the first time in months, and before he knows it, the words tumble out of his mouth and fall to the floor amidst the silence. 

They escape before he has a chance to take them back, hide them in his heart again. 

'Fred, I…'

_I wish it was me. ___

__-_ _

__He sees it in his dreams sometimes, when he has a bad day. The laughter, the bolt of green light. The terrible blankness in his eyes as he fell, the echoes of his laughter etched on his face. He wakes up screaming every single time, cries as Angelina holds him against her chest and the night blends into morning._ _

__It's only when the sun touches his face that he's able to fall asleep again for a few hours before he rises, eyes filled with the echo of loss and whispers of despair. Almost inevitably, he ends up retreating home after half a day in, lying on the bed until he hears Angelina arrive back, the rustling of her cloak as she places her bag down in the hallway._ _

__She never says anything, only watches, and at the end of the day, when mauve blankets the sky, she hugs him close to her chest, and they fall asleep, lying like that until the following day._ _

__-_ _

__Holding their first child, George can almost see Fred behind him, hear his chuckle as he looks down at the tuft of brilliantly red hair._ _

__'He's pretty handsome you know. Looks a bit like me, huh?'_ _

__Looking at Angelina, lying exhausted in her bed, he'd smiled._ _

__'You know what? I think he does.'_ _


End file.
